At lunch time the day before Christmas Eve, I stepped out of my front door and noticed yet another flat tire. I could see the nail poking up from the tread, so it was at least fixable. Good things: I noticed it early enough in the day when the place was open for business, I was at home instead of at work, I own an air compressor that lives in Brigid, the weather wasn't terrible for me to be out there inflating my tire, and there are a few places to eat around the tire repair place. Within an hour and a half it was all sorted, lunch included.
Shortly after returning home I could hear an intermittent beep in the distance. I knew from experience it was a low battery alarm - it had to be the garage smoke detector. I grabbed my trusty ladder, found a new 9V (that was just pure luck), and replaced it. Things I might have stressed over in the past - no biggie, I can handle it. All was well until I noticed the fingerprints on the garage ceiling - those are Mark's proof of life. A reminder that he was the last person to change out that battery.
Two days before Christmas is a tricky time to be reminded that I am still here, without my person. Four Decembers without him - and every December from now on. So, yeah, triggers still pop up out of nowhere. And I truly don't want to write every blog post about my loss. Because I'm also counting on better days to also come out of nowhere.
Sending you hugs my friend...
ReplyDeleteThank you, Kim (:
DeleteI'm sorry, and I know exactly what you mean. We can't write about loss all the time and yet, the reminders are there all the time. You did so well though problem solving both...but of course, the punch still came at the end. Hugs.
ReplyDeleteA punch was what it felt like - but you're right - you can't write about it all the time or you'll go bonkers.
DeleteGina, your blog post is so real and I know I say this a lot but thank you for sharing your heart and stories with us. Four Decembers and the rest is a lot. My heart breaks. And then at the same time, I see you are strong and that what once was a big deal, now rolls off your back like water on a duck. You are a tough cookie. Thank you for your stories and your heart.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Ivy - I appreciate your comments!
DeleteI've been a widow for 13 years but' I still get an occasional 'proof of life' jolt out of the blue. So I understand how the thumbprint hit you, especially at Christmas time. Cyber hugs coming your way.
ReplyDeleteIt was a jolt, for sure!
DeleteSending good thoughts and hugs your way.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you had that good experience on the same day showing you your strength.
For every thing I handle, I try to give myself a pat on the back!
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